


That's how you seduce a straight boy

by mongrelmind



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drugs, M/M, Multi, dub-con at times meaning sex under the influence, slight stockholm syndrome situation with adam and kavinsky, typical Kavinsky levels of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongrelmind/pseuds/mongrelmind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kavinsky kidnaps Adam in an attempt to get Ronan’s attention. Things go about as well as can be expected (not at all)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's how you seduce a straight boy

He watches Ronan Lynch a lot. It’s easy, looking at him, nobody questions it. It’s not like he’s the only one, he’s just the one that looks more, that looks harder, he’s the one that looks because he wants to see what’s under Lynch’s skin and not just what’s under his clothes. Lynch spends a lot of time looking at something else. Someone else. Kavinsky waits, and follows his looks. Their eyes meet looking at Parrish and Kavinsky leans back at the wall and grins.

_The charity case._

Kavinsky won’t pretend he’s not surprised. He always figured Dick was more the type, but maybe Lynch had a sensitive side, a need to provide, to protect.

_Such a fucking fag._

A plan starts forming in Kavinsky’s mind, and at the end of the school day he slows the Evo down next to the trailer trash, lingering until the biking boy stops and looks over before he rolls down his tinted windows, all lazy smiles and white sunglasses.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Parrish just scoffs and starts pedaling away.

Kavinsky hates it when people don’t take his pop culture references seriously. He drives his car right in front of the bike and stops, leaning out of the car, gun lazily pointed at Parrish’s face.

“I said get in,” he says and is delighted when the boy climbs in, white as a sheet, leaving his bike on the pavement. Kavinsky wonders if Lynch taught this one how to fight. He hopes he did.

 _guess what i have_ , he texts Lynch.

It doesn’t take long before his phone rings, and he hands it to the other boy without a word. He can hear frantic voices from the other line, but Parrish mostly replies with approving noises and the occasional ‘I’m fine’ and ‘yes, a gun’.

After a few minutes, Parrish looks over at him.

“Where are you taking me?”

Kavinsky takes a deep, satisfied drag from the cigarette he just lighted before replying, “He can’t have you back just yet. I have some fun things planned first. We will let him know when he can resume his parental duties or whatever the fuck it is he worries about.”

He can hear the voices on the other side, louder now, something distinctly sounding like you fucking bastard I will fucking end you before leaning over, taking the phone from Parrish’s right ear and hanging up.

“So,” Kavinsky says, jovially, “what’s your secret? What is it you do that makes Lynch unable to take his eyes off of you? Got a magic dick, is that it?”

“I don’t know what—” Parrish starts to say but Kavinsky interrupts him.

“You must have some idea,” he says. “You haven’t fucked him yet, have you?”

Parrish shakes his head.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Parrish says and Kavinsky grins.

“What, does our little Ronan do the fucking? I didn’t know he had it in him,” he laughs and Parrish shakes his head again.

Kavinsky drives the car through a tunnel, allowing himself a satisfied smile in the dark. He had assumed that trash-boy had some clue about Ronan’s little situation. The fact that he didn’t makes everything so much better. He drives into an abandoned parking lot and gets out of the car. His phone rings in his pocket and he hums the ringtone as he pulls Parrish out, holding the gun to the back of his head. Parrish walks in front of him quietly, without trying to run or hit him, so much different from how Ronan would have acted in his place that Kavinsky wants to laugh.

“Are you always this obedient?” he laughs, pushing the barrel of the gun against the boy’s neck. “I always thought you’d have more of a backbone.”

Parrish stops walking for a second and turns his head towards him, so Kavinsky reaches out and twists his hand around his back.

“A good thing you’re not fucking yet,” he whispers close to his ear. “You’d be such a fucking disappointment.” Before Parrish can respond, Kavinsky urges him forward again, using the barrel of the gun to draw shapes on the small of Parrish’s back as he continues humming to his ringtone.

So, it was just a crush, secret even. How adorable. This day is already turning out better than expected.

Kavinsky takes Parrish to the room he’s fixed for himself at the end of the lot, and cuffs him in a chair. It’s starting to get to him, how quiet the boy is. Careful. Obedient. Like Parrish knows exactly what would set him off and avoids it carefully. Then Kavinsky remembers that Parrish’s father is in jail, and it all starts to make sense to him. He takes out the still-ringing phone and answers it finally. The string of profanities falling from Ronan’s mouth is like a song written just for him and he sits on a chair as he listens, smiling.

“No wonder he doesn’t let you suck his dick. Your mouth is filthy, Lynch,” he says once Lynch stops yelling enough to be able to hear him clearly.

“Where the fuck are you?” Lynch asks. “I don’t know what your game is, you sick fuck, but Adam—”

Kavinsky ends the call and tosses the phone away, looking at Parrish. It made no sense that this trailer park trash nobody would get this much attention from Ronan Lynch. It made no sense at all.

“At first I thoughts it would be Gansey, you know?” he says conversationally. “Even your own mother would choose Gansey over you after all. Maybe Lynch thought you’d be easy. Are you easy, Parrish?”

Instead of answering, Parrish closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and settles into his chair. Kavinsky lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine, have it your way,” he says. “Let’s not fucking share and try to make this a pleasant experience. Fuck bonding. I love the silent treatment. A real turn-on.”

Kavinsky leans back in his chair, taps his foot, counts slowly to ten, twenty, before jumping over to the other chair and giving its occupant an amiable kick to the shin.

“So, Parrish. Tell me about yourself.”

He waits for a few heartbeats before continuing, straddling the other boy’s lap.

“Here’s what I know. Dirt poor trailer trash, born to a father who only wanted a punching bag, and a mother who was happy it was no longer her. Stop me if I get something wrong. No? Disliked, unloved, not really much of a future? How many jobs are you juggling? Three? Four? Does Lynch pay you for your company?”

He moves in close and blows hot breath on Parrish’s face, but still no response from Parrish.

_Damn._

“What a sob story,” Kavinsky continues, undeterred. “Must get you a long way, really. Fucking American Idol. Is that why you’re at Aglionby? Did you throw a pity party and they let you in because they felt bad? Must be a shit feeling, only being in school because your father beat you.”

At this the other boy jumps, tugging at the cuffs, and his feet push off the ground, almost throwing Kavinsky off.

“I knew you were a wild one,” he laughs when Adam settles down.

Parrish spits at him and says, “They will find me, you know.”

Smiling lazily, Kavinsky strokes Parrish’s cheek before replying, “I’m counting on it, sweetheart.” Using his fingers to pry Parrish’s jaw open, he places a pill on the other boy’s tongue. “Now be a darling and swallow.”

He makes sure that Parrish swallows, and then shoves his fingers in his mouth just in case. Parrish bites his fingers hard, and Kavinsky laughs as he pries Parrish’s mouth open again with his free hand. There is blood on the boy’s lips and for a second Kavinsky thinks that he can see the appeal, maybe.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he says as he spreads the blood around the other boy’s face a little more. Parrish snaps his teeth again and Kavinsky hits him with the back of his hand. Parrish spits up blood and Kavinsky doesn’t know whose blood it is and he can see it again, the good part of this boy, the interesting part.

“It wasn’t my best idea,” Parrish says. “I don’t know where your fingers have been.”

Kavinsky hits him again, harder.

Parrish blinks sluggishly, and he looks at him like he’s scared for the first time. “What did you give me?”

“Don’t worry,” Kavinsky says with a grin. “By the time I’m done with you you’ll accept anything I give you..”

He gets up to find his phone before snapping a photo of Parrish.

“It’s not the best of you,” he confesses, eyeing it critically, “but I guess it’ll serve its purpose. You’re really nailing the miserable look, and I’m positive the blood will get Lynch fired up in more ways than one.”

Seeing Parrish fading in his chair, Kavinsky half-smiles. “Too late to slip into something more comfortable now, I guess,” he proclaims, mainly to himself, and goes to uncuff the now-sleeping boy before lowering him to the floor. “Shit, this gives me a much better idea for what to send Lynch.”

Lying down next to Parrish, he angles the phone so that it captures both their faces.

_come join us_

*

Ronan throws his cellphone on the street and it falls apart. He turns his back to the pieces as if it will make the image disappear, make this situation disappear. It doesn’t, of course, he has never been that lucky.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he says, walking up and down the street next to his car.

He needs his phone, so he gathers the pieces and puts them back together awkwardly. The screen is cracked and that’s not going to be fixed but he doesn’t care, all he needs is to be able to call Kavinsky, talk to him until he tells him where they are, tells him how to get Adam back.

He calls again.

He calls again.

He calls again.

Kavinsky doesn’t fucking answer and he’s going to kill him, he really is.

_come join us._

The image is burned in his brain forever, Adam with blood on his face and Kavinsky next to him, like a dog and its master. Ronan gets in the car and drives.

They have to be somewhere.

While driving, Ronan continues calling Kavinsky, cursing Adam under his breath for being too prideful to allow Ronan, or Gansey, or anyone to buy him a phone.

Eventually, someone picks up.

“Lynch,” a cold voice answers.

“Fuck,” Ronan mutters. “Proko, you useless piece of shit. Tell me where Kavinsky is—”

The other boy cuts him off.

“K says that he’s waiting for you. He hopes you hurry up.”

Then the line is dead.

Ronan thinks he can see a familiar white form out of the corner of his eye, but when his head snaps, it’s just a van. He bangs his hands on the steering wheel hard, once, twice, before picking up the phone he dropped in his lap to reply to Kavinsky’s text.

_this isnt a fucking game k._

*

Adam’s head is pounding when he wakes up on a cold, hard concrete floor. With his eyes closed, he breathes heavily and tries to remember how he got here.

Suddenly something skitters over his stomach, and he opens one eye to see Kavinsky snorting a white powder from his skin. When he realizes Adam’s awake, he licks the residue before leaning his head back and sighing. Something tenses in Adam’s abdomen.

“Shit, that’s better,” Kavinsky breathes, shaking a small bag of the same white powder in Adam’s general direction. “Want any to take the edge off? You don’t do this kind of shit, do you, angel face? Oh, and sorry about the whole…”

He gestures towards Adam’s half-naked torso.

“At least I pulled up your t-shirt. You’re the cleanest thing around here. Says something, really.”

Adam tries to move his arms but he’s cuffed, still, and his shirt pulled up over his arms is making things even worse. He must be flailing like a fish, he knows but he can’t feel his legs and he has to move. The room is spinning a little and he feels like he’s going to be sick.

Kavinsky puts his hands on his waist, keeping him still. “You’ll make yourself dizzy,” he says. “I don’t think you could pull off the vomit look.”

Adam stills, looking up at the ceiling, willing the world to stop.

“I’m thirsty,” he says because that might make Kavinsky leave him for a while.

But Kavinsky just turns towards the door and yells at Proko to get them something to drink. Proko comes back with beer, because of course he does, Adam should know that water was too much to ask.

“Make sure he drinks enough then take the bottle away,” Kavinsky says, opening the bottle with his teeth and spitting the cap away. He leans his head back and takes a big swig like he can find the secrets to everything at the bottom of the bottle but only if he drinks it fast enough.

Adam lets Proko hold the bottle to his mouth and he drinks quickly. It washes the taste of the blood away, at least.

“Lynch keeps texting,” Proko says and tosses Kavinsky the phone.

Kavinsky smiles and holds Adam still again, carefully spreading more coke in small lines over his torso.

“Ronan Lynch has a heart!” he says and snorts a line from Adam’s chest. “If that’s not cause for celebration then I don’t know what is anymore.”

He does another one and smiles at Adam, eyes glinting. “Are you sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s not as if you’re ever going to be able to afford it.”

At that, Parrish bends over and retches. It’s not much coming up, mainly beer and stomach acid, but it leaves him panting.

“That’s fucking disgusting, Parrish,” Kavinsky comments, eyeing the powder that was now on the dirty floor. The rest of his stuff was in his car, damn it. They had to get moving anyway, especially with the now vomit-covered floor.

He calls on Proko and tells him to find something to clean up the mess, and Proko, as always, is more than willing.

_Such a sheep._

“What do you want from me?” Parrish asks weakly, side-eyeing the other boy. Kavinsky laughs.

“Fuck if I know. Mainly doing it to get a rise out of Lynch. Intel, maybe. What makes him tick, shit like that. How to get him into bed, wet and willing.”

“I’m not gay,” Parrish spits out.

Kavinsky bumps his shoulder sympathetically.

“Sure you’re not. That piece of ass moaning Dick’s name every time she breathes out? Good luck with that, pretty boy.” Parrish freezes, and Kavinsky realizes that this was another thing the Parrish kid had no idea about.

Why is Lynch so hell-bent on hanging out with these oblivious people?

“I didn’t take her for a player,” Kavinsky muses. “An opportunist — I respect that. Good for her! Get it while you can.” He bends over and pressed his lips to Adam’s, only to pull back instantly.

“Fuck, forgot you just puked your guts out. Fucking disgusting,” he says and finishes his beer.

 

Then Kavinsky lifts Parrish to his feet and walks him out to the car.

“I don’t think you’re going to get anything out of this,” Parrish says and Kavinsky wants to laugh, because this is already so much better than he expected. He looks at Parrish for a second, taking in the state of his t-shirt and face, and shakes his head.

“You’re not getting in my car like that,” he says and pulls Parrish’s shirt off completely. He has to uncuff him for a second but Parrish isn’t moving, isn’t trying to get away. He cuffs him again anyway, just to be safe. He uses Parrish’s t-shirt to wipe his face clean, and then tosses it over his shoulder in the middle of the road.

“Maybe our boy will see it and follow your scent, Parrish!” he says with a grin.

“Ronan isn’t your anything,” Parrish says and Kavinsky pushes him into the car with a little more force than he would usually apply.

“Shut the fuck up, cunt,” he says and slams the door behind him before he gets into the car as well.

“Touchy, Kavinsky?” Parrish asks and he has an infuriating expression as if he knows Kavinsky, as if he can read his mind. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“You’re not very good with people, are you, Parrish?” Kavinsky says. “You and that bunch of misfits over at Monmouth.”

Adam looks down on his cuffed hands, and he half smiles.

“If you say so.”

Kavinsky uses the first few minutes of the drive to accelerate and brake with violence, throwing Adam around in his seat. He soon tires of this little game, though, and anyway, Adam is used to being beaten. This is nothing.

“He talks about you a lot. Tries to hide it, of course, but there is something there. We all know it. See it the mornings after he’s raced you.” He looks over at Kavinsky, who is tensely staring at the road in front of them, and continues, “I just don’t think this is the way to get his attention. Not the way you want it, anyway. I could help you.”

Adam uses his cuffed hands to soothingly pet Kavinsky’s thigh, and is rewarded with a suspicious look. Perfect. He continues stroking the leg while talking in a calming voice, as if Kavinsky is a wounded animal.

“I understand what it’s like to be alone. I understand Ronan. I could help you. We could help each other.”

Kavinsky is still looking out the front, but Adam can see he’s got the other boy’s attention, although he doesn’t say anything. Kavinsky doesn’t need to say anything for this to work.

“We would make quite a team,” Adam purrs, turning his whole body towards the driving seat as much as he can. “I could help you out. I would be better for you than Proko, you know that. I would be good for you. Let me show you. Uncuff me, you know how obedient I can be. I can do so much more uncuffed.”

Kavinsky hesitates for a moment. Adam can feel his heart beating, but eventually a key magically appears, and Kavinsky quickly unlock the cuffs.

Adam can’t help but to be slightly surprised at how naive some people can be. Desperate. Wanting. He’s sure the powder and beer doesn’t help. When he is free, he leans over to Kavinsky, putting one hand on the parking brake while the other is used for support on the steering wheel.

Looking up at the other boy, he smiles assuringly. Quickly, Adam pulls the emergency brake with one hand while using the other to control the car, bracing himself. Kavinsky isn’t so lucky; his head hits the driving wheel as the car slows dramatically, before his whole body is being thrown back into the seat.

As the car comes to a stop, Adam sits back up and fishes Kavinsky’s phone out of his pocket.

“I might not be good with people,” he mumbles to the unconscious boy in the other seat, “but I’m awfully good with cars.” Punching in Ronan’s number from memory, he gets out of his seat and into the street, waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

*

When Kavinsky opens his eyes, he sees Parrish sitting at the corner of the road with his phone to his ear. Parrish isn’t looking at the car, which is a big mistake but it’s not like Kavinsky expected anything better from him. The boy has proved that he’s not completely hopeless but he strongly suspects his little car trick and one liner was the only weapon in his arsenal.

And it’s not like he’s going to fall for it twice.

“Fuck, Ronan, I told you I’m fine, just come pick me up!” Parrish is shouting into the phone and it allows Kavinsky to approach him, slide an arm around his shoulders, pressing the gun to his neck.

“Boo,” he whispers in Parrish’s ear. Parrish freezes and Kavinsky feels the muscles of his back tense against his chest. “Is that lover boy on the phone?” he asks and takes it away with his free hand.

Ronan in uncharacteristically silent at the other end, and Kavinsky hopes it’s because he’s rushing to find them. This game is getting old, he expected better.

“Lynch, baby, I am very angry at your little boy-toy right now,” he says tapping his gun at Adam’s neck. “You have ten minutes.” Kavinsky hangs up and puts his phone back in his pocket.

“How will we ever pass the time before Lynch gets here, I wonder?” he says with a smile. Parrish swallows and looks at him, his face raw with anger and disappointment and hate.

Kavinsky doesn’t think the boy’s ever looked more attractive.

“I should have started running right away, shouldn’t I?” he says and he’s fighting to keep his voice even, Kavinsky can feel it.

“Perhaps,” he answers. “After all, there’s nothing I like better than chasing down little rats like you.”

“Fuck you,” Parrish says and that’s better, that’s much better.

“Maybe later,” he laughs and he doesn’t pull the boy any closer, even though he’s tempted. Lynch will be there soon after all. Maybe the three of them could play together.

Now that would be something.

*

Ronan pushes the BMW like it has never been pushed before. If the location that Adam had given him on the phone was correct, it is a fifteen minute drive.

He has to do it in less than ten. It would work. It has to.

All he could hope for is that they stayed there, and didn’t move again. He’s tired of the hunt. Silently, he curses himself for not keeping Robert Parrish’s gun in the car, and for not having time to pick it up.

Thundering down the road, he soon sees Kavinsky’s white Evo and, next to it, two people. No backup. Guess Kavinsky didn’t think he’d need his posse here for this.

As Ronan stops behind the Mitsubishi, he looks over to assess the situation. Adam is sitting there topless, his back to Ronan, and with Kavinsky leaning his head on Adam, arm slung over his shoulder. As Ronan exits the car, both boys turn towards him.

With his lips and cheeks covered in dried blood, and a gun pressed into his neck, Adam has never looked more vulnerable. Ronan could feel the anger rise inside him, but the helplessness brings tears to his eyes. He quickly and discreetly blinks them away.

They will figure this out.

As he starts walking towards the pair, Kavinsky smiles.

“Nah-ah, Princess. That’s as close as you get, unless you want your little puppy to have even less of a personality than he already does.”

Ronan flinches and takes a step back.

“Adam, are you okay?” he asks as he looks at the other boy, hoping that he will see some spark in Adam’s eyes, praying that there’s a little fight left, but Adam looks beaten, just like he did every time Ronan went to see him at the double-wide when Adam had missed school. He doesn’t meet Ronan’s gaze.

Kavinsky pets Adam’s head and smirks at Ronan.

“What can I do to solve this, K?” Ronan asks. “I just want to take Adam with me.”

“Well,” Kavinsky responds, “that is exactly our problem. I’m not sure I feel like giving him back.” He puts his free arm on Adam’s stomach and pulls him one step back, further away from Ronan. “Not when we’re just starting to know each other.”

Ronan feels a little sick, but he doesn’t know whether that’s because he’s worried or because Kavinsky keeps touching Adam. He should have called Gansey. He should have told Noah. He shouldn’t be here alone facing Kavinsky with his gun on Adam’s neck.

“Look, what the fuck do you want from me, Kavinsky?” he asks, and he hates himself a little for how desperate he sounds.

“You look so pathetic right now, secrets all in the open,” Kavinsky answers with a laugh. “Don’t you think he looks pathetic Parrish?” He taps Adam’s neck with the gun again and Adam nods.

“Yes,” Adam says meekly. “Pathetic.”

Kavinsky’s face lights up like a kid on the night before Christmas. “Took some trouble but I tamed him for you,” he says. “And I’m willing to share if you want to play.”

Ronan feels even sicker.

 

“This is disappointing,” Kavinsky whispers into his ear and Adam can’t help but think that he’s right. Ronan is standing a couple of feet away, watching them and he feels beaten already, the fire all gone. Adam hadn’t believed Kavinsky when he told him about Ronan’s feelings. This is Kavinsky after all, so desperate for Ronan that he see rivals everywhere. Adam can’t count how many times he’s joked about Gansey and Ronan in various inappropriate situations.

But this isn’t a lie. This is Ronan looking defeated because there’s a gun on Adam’s neck. This is Ronan’s greatest fear brought to life.

Adam can’t help but feel a little powerful. Kavinsky wants Ronan and Ronan wants him and he has a gun pressed at his neck and no shirt but he feels like it’s all in his hands now, all the strings are his to pull.

Kavinsky pulls Parrish back with him and sits on the hood of the Evo, keeping the gun firmly on Adam’s neck.

“I’m getting tired here Lynch,” he says. “I thought you were going to do something interesting.”

“Kavinsky you have a gun on my friend’s neck,” Lynch says and he sounds broken, but it’s not the kind of broken Kavinsky wants, not really. This is resigned and he’s looking for wrecked.

“Is that how you dealt with his father too?” he asks because why hurt one when you can get them both at once. “Did he stand in the corner and watch, Parrish? Did he say ‘Oh, sorry Adam but your dad’s kicking the shit out of you there’s nothing I can do’? I never thought you were such a pussy, Lynch.”

He hopes to get a rise out of Lynch, to make him do _something_ , but Lynch is just standing there, palms up like he’s fucking Gandhi or something.

Frankly, it’s starting to piss Kavinsky off. All talk, no action, that’s no way to live life.

Kavinsky starts chuckling and says, “Hey, Lynch. I have an idea. A proposition, if you will. Here’s the plan, right.”

He moves the gun from Parrish’s neck and down between his legs. When Parrish freezes, Kavinsky strokes his bare arm soothingly. “Your Prince Charming will make the right choice, Parrish, don’t you worry your pretty head.”

He smiles, before talking to Lynch again. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You have a choice. You can either walk with Parrish right no—wait for it! Right now, but I get to shoot him in the balls. He probably won’t bleed out, not if you get him to the hospital soon enough anyway, but he won’t be much use to you in bed. Unless he bottoms, but you seem like a bottom, Lynch, let’s not lie to each other. That is option one. Option two: we wait here until you’ve pissed me off enough for me to shoot off his other head. Pick quickly.”

Kavinsky waits a split second before continuing, “Fucking Lynch. You see, Parrish, you deserve better. He only wants you for your fucking dick.” He let out a happy chuckle and looks around. “What a day of fucking revelations this is, am I right? I’m sure trash boy’s head is too full of new information, we should get him some rest.”

Then he removes the gun from Adam and points it at Ronan.

“You. Get in my car.”

*

Ronan walks to the car and gets in. It’s not as if he has a choice, he tells himself. The gun pointing at his head means that Adam can walk away now.

Adam will be okay now.

“I will treasure our time together until you come crawling back, trash boy,” Kavinsky says to Adam, grinning as he gets into the car. Adam is looking at Ronan, his arms wrapped around himself and Ronan can’t decipher the look on his face, he really can’t.

Adam is not walking away though, and Kavinsky isn’t starting the car. He just watches Adam with a smile.

Then Adam steps into the car, and Ronan is going to kill him, he really is.

“I don’t know where we are,” Adam says, sitting in the back seat of the Evo like its driver didn’t have him at gunpoint just five minutes ago. Kavinsky laughs and Ronan doesn’t understand what he’s doing there, and he’s never felt more useless in his life.

“Oh that’s brilliant. That’s just lovely,” Kavinsky says, rubbing Ronan’s thigh. “See how addictive my personality is, Lynch?”

Ronan looks back at Adam, but the boy is avoiding his eyes.

“Kavinsky, just get Adam home,” he says, trying to make himself sound authoritative. “Your business is with me, anyway.”

Adam sinks back into the back seat of the Evo while Kavinsky and Ronan quarrel up front. This is probably a really bad idea. Like, really bad. He’s not even sure what had gotten into him, why he didn’t just leave. He knew Ronan could take care of himself, it was just…something. He isn’t sure.

Adam leans forward and touches Ronan’s shoulder. Kavinsky jumps and looks at them but turns back to the road without saying anything.

“Ronan,” Adam whispers, “can I borrow your t-shirt?”

Ronan looks over to Kavinsky, asking for permission.

Kavinsky laughed. “When have I ever objected to your nudity, Lynch? Take it off!”

Ronan slips his t-shirt off and passes it over to Adam. Adam squeezes his fingers briefly and Ronan doesn’t smile, but he does seem slightly less tense and that’s good enough for him. For now.

They will have to talk when this is over, but Adam doesn’t want to think about that right now. Ronan’s tank top fits him, and he feels a little better wearing it, less exposed, less vulnerable.

Kavinsky is watching Ronan’s chest like he wants to eat him.

“Kavinsky, you’re drooling,” Ronan says. “Focus on getting Adam home, and then we’ll talk.”

Adam wants to tell him that he tried that already, the I’m-on-your-side routine, but he doesn’t think he pulled it quite as well as Ronan does, all blown pupils and muscles and—oh. That explains far too much about this relationship.

“I knew you’d get there eventually Lynch,” Kavinsky says with a grin. “I just expected that you’d be easier, what with your little trailer park sweetheart walking around half naked all this time.”

“Fuck you, Kavinsky,” Ronan says.

Adam really can’t understand how Ronan’s mind works. Ronan was hardly able to speak when the gun was aimed at Adam but now that Kavinsky is pointing it at him Ronan is acting as if he wanted to get shot.

Ronan is in control. He can feel it now. Adam getting in the back was not part of the plan but Kavinsky wants him, he really does and maybe if he gives Kavinsky what he wants he’ll stay away from Adam.

He looks into the mirror at the boy in the back, his arms still around himself in a protective gesture, looking out the window. Even with the Bulgarian leering next to him, Ronan needs to stay calm, stay composed.

As if he can read his mind, Kavinsky leans over to stroke up Ronan’s bare arm, over his shoulder, and down his chest.

“Damn, man. You need to start working out. You’re getting soft.”

“God, you’re such a bitch,” Ronan replied.

“Anything for you, Princess,” Kavinsky grinned.

Ronan bites his lip, glancing over to the driver’s side. “Let Adam go and we can talk about it, I promise you,” he says. “And you know I never lie.”

Kavinsky checked out the other boy in the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t think Parrish got in the car only to be let out again. Anyway, where’s the fun in keeping only one of you?”

“He got in the car for you to drive him home, Kavinsky,” Ronan says. “So get him home, for fuck’s sake.”

Kavinsky raises an eyebrow as he looks at Ronan. Ronan stares back, and Adam notices that he looks normal again, sharp and dangerous.

Kavinsky looks away. “You’re not calling the shots here, princess,” he says but he doesn’t meet Ronan’s eyes again. “I’m the one with the gun.”

“So what?” Ronan says and it’s the voice that Adam always hated, his Gansey voice, his richer-stronger-better voice. “You’re not going to shoot me, K.”

“I could shoot him,” Kavinsky says, never taking his eyes off the road or his hand off the gun.

“And where would that get you?” Ronan asks. “How long do you think your dearly bought immunity will last if you kill Gansey’s best friend?”

Then the car stops and Adam notices that they’re back at Kavinsky’s again. Not home, for all of Ronan’s efforts. Not anywhere safe.

“Your little master’s name doesn’t really scare me, Lynch. Now get out,” Kavinsky say, and turns the gun back on Adam. “Or lover boy here gets it.”

Adam is glad to discover that after a long exposure to them, guns seem to lose their effect on him. He is scared, still, but not in the way he was before. Of course it could just be because Ronan’s there, looking like himself again, but Adam prefers to think that he’s gotten used to being afraid.

Ronan steps out of the car and Kavinsky follows, stopping to lean outside Adam’s door.

“See, I’m a nice man so I’m going to ask,” he says with a smile. “Are you coming or should I lock you in the car? Proko will look after you and make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

Adam’s jaw tenses as he looks over at Ronan who is standing with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at them. Kavinsky breaks the silence with a “we don’t have all day, love birds.”

“I’m coming with you,” Adam replies, eyes still locked on Ronan. He can see the sadness form on Ronan’s face before he turns his head away.

“Prokopenko will be rather disappointed, I must admit. He had very much been looking forward to paying you special attention.” Adam thinks Kavinsky tried to mimic Gansey’s old Virginia accent, but if he did, he didn’t do a very good job.

He crawls out of the car, weary of the gun and the boy holding it, but not as much as before. Suddenly, Kavinsky has him by the throat, pressed up against the car.

“I don’t know what your game is, pretty face, but you better not be planning anything or I will end you.” He has his face up in Adam’s, who is having trouble breathing. As quickly as he grabbed him, Kavinsky releases him before adjusting Ronan’s tank top.

“Suits you,” he comments. “It does not look as good on you as on Lynch, but you’ll get there.”

Waving his gun, Kavinsky signals for Adam to move towards the entrance.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you in the shower.”

Kavinsky walks to the door with a grin and rubs Ronan’s shoulder with the hand not holding the gun. “You know how to pick them Lynch,” he says, opening the door for them. Ronan lets Adam walk inside first and falls into step behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks in a low voice. “You don’t want to be here, Adam.”

“And yet,” Adam says. He doesn’t know why Ronan’s insistence at him leaving is making him angry but it is. He feels the need to act out, to disagree. Vaguely he recognizes that he’s just digging his own grave—hopefully only metaphorically—but he can’t bring himself to care.

Kavinsky pokes his back with the gun and pushes him through a door that proves to be a bathroom. He walks in after him, pulling Ronan along. Kavinsky leans on the edge of the sink, crossing his arms in front of him. Ronan stands by the door, glaring at Adam as if the entire situation is his fault.

“Don’t you know how to take a shower?” Kavinsky asks. “Don’t worry, there’s no hot water so you’ll feel right at home.”

Ronan mutters something that sounds like a curse under his breath and turns to Adam. “Lift your arms over your head,” he says and Adam does, allowing Ronan to pull off his shirt. “Can you get out of your pants by yourself or should I do that too?” he asks and Adam really didn’t think his decision to stay through.

Ronan rolls his eyes and glances at Kavinsky before sliding down to his knees and taking off his shoes, socks and then pulling off his pants. Adam’s ears turn bright red and he thinks that there’s something wrong about him because he should be focusing on Kavinsky, on the gun, on the fact that what’s happening is nowhere close to what anyone actually wanted to be happening but all Adam could think about is Ronan’s fingers opening the buttons of his trousers, the fact that he can see his tattoo and the top of his head and it’s almost like Ronan’s about to—

Ronan steps away without looking at Adam.

“Get in the shower,” he says and his voice is a little strained. Not that Adam can blame him. He’s not sure that he’d sound any better and he’s supposed to be the straight one in the room.

He gets in the shower. It seems like the safest choice. The water is freezing but he’s used to it, and the feeling of the water on his skin, the blood and the puke finally going away is worth it, worth everything.

“I think you should scrub his back,” Kavinsky says and Adam looks at him, surprised. Kavinsky isn’t looking at him, of course he’s not, but he’s eating Ronan with his eyes and Adam can’t blame him.

Ronan’s face is flushed and his eyes are dark and he looks away as soon as Adam turns to look at him but Adam can imagine the way he had been looking at him and Adam thinks he likes it, Ronan looking at him like that.

“It’s okay, Ronan,” he says. “I can’t really reach properly anyway.”

“I never thought I’d spend my day acting out Kavinsky’s weird sex fantasies,” he mutters and slips out of his clothes and behind Adam in the shower.

Adam is looking at the wall. Adam is focusing on the wall. Adam isn’t focusing on the hands on his shoulders and the sponge down his back and how close Ronan is standing.

Adam is straight anyway.

Ronan keeps his hands on Adam’s shoulders at first, something which Adam is grateful for. But eventually, his fingers move the sponge further and further down, at the same time massaging Adam’s tense muscles, and his breath is getting hitched. When Adam’s back curves slightly, Ronan stops. A long minute passes where the only sound is the cold water still running and Kavinsky snorting up some powder.

Adam continues staring at the wall, waiting, waiting, then Ronan leans forward, his mouth close to Adam’s ear, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and putting his head on Adam’s shoulder, but Adam doesn’t know what he is apologizing for. If he had stayed in the car, they wouldn’t be here, so it really should be Adam apologizing. Adam isn’t sure he wanted to stay in the car anyway; who knows what Prokopenko had in mind?

Ronan lifts his head and resumes the massaging, now at the lower back, and Kavinsky is looking at them again.

Leaning forward, he smiles at Adam and says, “Tell me again how you’re fucking straight, Parrish.” He settles back on the sink before giving new directions to Ronan. “His face isn’t clean, Lynch. I think you should deal with that.”

Hesitating, Ronan turns Adam around and looks into his eyes. Feeling self-conscious, Adam looks down only to quickly look back up, over Ronan’s shoulder. Down isn’t a much better option.

Ronan starts cleaning Adam’s face with his fingers, allowing them to softly scrub at his cheeks, all while slowly muttering apologies and Adam wants to yell at him to stop, they are both in on this, this isn’t his fault, not his alone, and he is doing nothing wrong, but all he does is continue to look over Ronan’s shoulder as Ronan’s fingers caress his jaw line and down his neck.

Then Ronan’s fingers are on his mouth, softly tracing the shape of his lips, and Adam doesn’t know what he is muttering any more but it sounds a lot like praises. Adam closes his eyes and focuses on the tender touch, his lips throbbing against the connection. No one has ever been this gentle with him, all he knows is bruises and blood.

Ronan’s finger lingers on Adam’s bottom lip, and when Adam opens up his eyes and meets Ronan’s gaze, he slowly sucks the finger into his mouth, letting it rest on his tongue, teeth lightly resting, telling him it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Ronan’s pupils dilate, his eyes are now almost black, and Adam feels something come undone inside him.

“Hey hey hey,” Kavinsky interrupts. “I’m sure Parrish is clean enough. Lynch, get out of the shower.” Ronan hesitates for a second, but slowly steps out, not breaking eye contact with Adam.

Then Kavinsky closes the shower door, and Adam can hear the lock clicking. Adam steps out of the spray and hears somebody slam on the door.

“Fuck, Kavinsky,” Ronan curses and Adam hears another thump, like a head just fell back on the door. Adam’s throat is dry. Standing behind the door he can hear Ronan talking, cursing and encouraging Kavinsky in one breath.

It’s like watching porn or listening to a very attractive neighbor have sex, Adam tells himself. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s a teenage boy; it’s only natural that he’d react to that, that he’d react no matter who it was. It’s not because of Ronan, pressed against the door that Adam’s leaning on, naked and whispering profanities like prayers. He leans his head on the door and tries to keep his breathing even and keeps his hands on his sides.

_It doesn’t mean anything._

As Ronan’s words turn into murmured pleading, barely audible, Adam lets himself slide down to the shower floor, leaning against the door. Closing his eyes, he can’t help but remember the feeling of Ronan’s finger on his lips, on his skin, his hands massaging his back, moving downwards, always moving downwards. Outside, Ronan has gone silent except for a few expletives and, once, Adam could swear he hears Ronan call out Joseph, but it can’t be.

Suddenly, something slams against the door again, Ronan makes an inhuman sound, and Adam feels like he’s going to burst. He flies up and gets under the cold spray of water again, palms resting against the cold tiles, breathing heavily.

_Fuck._

Kavinsky pulls Lynch close for one last kiss, fingers digging half moons into his shoulders, teeth worrying his lips. Lynch doesn't chase his lips when Kavinsky pulls back but then again, Kavinsky doesn’t expect him to. Not today, not with lover boy waiting inside the bathroom.

Kavinsky enters the bathroom and sees Parrish, sitting under the cold water spray staring at the floor, looking all kinds of pathetic and pitiful. It is a wonderful sight. He approaches him and tips his head up with his hand, grinning. Parrish looks just like Lynch had felt: confused and frustrated and very, very aroused. Kavinsky leans down and kisses him, and he wonders if the boy knows that what he tastes is mostly Ronan.

Parrish keeps looking at him even as they kiss. He pulls away and turns to grin at Ronan, who is standing by the door holding a towel. “And that’s how you seduce a straight boy,” Kavinsky says but Ronan ignores him, wrapping the towel around Parrish.

“I generally seduce my conquests without having to resort to kidnapping,” Ronan says and Kavinsky laughs, pulling him back for another kiss.

“You love it,” he whispered in his ear and swallows Ronan’s halfhearted fuck off with his mouth. But Ronan pulls back almost at once, looking at Adam guiltily and Kavinsky is tired, tired, tired of being an extra in the Ronan Lynch story, someone merely convenient for when Adam Parrish isn’t present to amuse Ronan with his face and body and his troubled heterosexuality.

*

Adam is just standing there like a statue, with the towel over his shoulders, not looking anywhere.

As Ronan goes to turn off the shower, the other boy flinches and closes his eyes. When they open again, he looks different, more determined, and definitely more than titillated. As he puts the towel down slowly, Kavinsky leans back to enjoy the show, but it is not Lynch that Parrish goes after.

Instead, he marches towards Kavinsky and pushes him hard against the cold wall. He looks dangerous, so dangerous, and Kavinsky loves it. Holding Kavinsky’s arms over his head, Parrish leans in close and whispers “I’m not fucking gay,” before kissing him hard, pressing their bodies together.

His soft lips crashes against Kavinsky’s chapped ones, teeth clashing, uncontrolled, before Adam sucks his bottom lip in and bite down sharply. Kavinsky feels his heart soar, and he fights against the grip holding his hands up, but Parrish is much stronger than he looks, and he keeps the grasp with little effort.

So maybe Kavinsky’s not trying his best to get free, but who could blame him, really?

As the other boy’s tongue slips easily into his mouth, his breath heavy and sweet, Kavinsky can’t help but congratulate himself on how this whole ordeal has turned out. Tasting the metal of what could only be his own blood, he moans slightly. Parrish lifts his half-lidded gaze to Kavinsky, who winks at him cheekily. His lips leave Kavinsky’s and starts exploring his neck, and Kavinsky leans his head back, breathing audibly, before looking over at Lynch.

Shit, he has never seen Lynch this incomplete and frustrated, this wrecked.

Parrish releases Kavinsky’s hands, putting his own on the other one’s shoulders, pushing his own still-cold body slightly away. Voice strained, he murmurs, “Fucking Joseph Kavinsky. You owe me for drugging me.”

"He drugged you?" Ronan asks, his voice raising, pushing himself away from the wall and towards Kavinsky. “

“It was just a pill, Lynch, and it’s not like I took advantage, right, Parrish?” Kavinsky says. Adam holds Ronan back with a hand and Ronan stays. Kavinsky smirks again and he doesn’t need to speak for Ronan to understand what he’s thinking.

 _Good dog, Lynch. Heel, Lynch. Bark bark, Lynch._

He shrugs Adam’s hand away and punches Kavinsky in the gut, putting his whole body behind the swing, and Kavinsky doubles up and falls to the bathroom floor.

“Shit, Ronan,” Adam says but he doesn’t lean down to help Kavinsky so Ronan isn’t that worried about what he’s going to think. Kavinsky sits up and Ronan braces himself for a punch, for an attack, for something.

But Kavinsky just smiles, as he moves to kneel on the floor and turns his back on Ronan as if he’s not even there, as if he’s irrelevant. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” he says, looking up at Adam. “Before your blue balls kill you.”

Ronan is going to kill him. Ronan is going to hold him down and kick him until he shits out his own guts. Ronan is going to—

Adam nods and Kavinsky pulls himself closer, and suddenly Ronan wants to be out of the bathroom. He wants to be away from everything, he wants to never see Adam like that again with anyone that isn’t him, he wants to grab Kavinsky by the hair and make him do a better job at it because Adam deserves better than sloppy bathroom blow jobs by Kavinsky when he’s high. Ronan wants to close his eyes and ears and not have to witness this. Ronan can’t bring himself to look away.

He watches as Kavinsky trails his fingers down Adam’s body. He watches as Kavinsky bites his lip expectantly. Ronan watches as Kavinsky leans over Adam. He licks his lips before sliding him into his mouth, wrapping himself around Adam, and Ronan wishes he could look away, he really does.

Kavinsky starts sucking, hard and fast at first, then slower, taking his time, lingering. Adam takes shallow breaths, gripping Kavinsky’s hair for support, as Kavinsky is enthusiastically bobbing his head while using his hand, stroking and twisting. Ronan’s heart is beating loudly in his chest, his muscles tense, his body pulsating, wanting, needing, but not like this. Swirling his tongue over the head, Kavinsky is covering Adam with saliva, making him take deep breaths, his brow knotted, his eyes closed tight, quivering. He raked his nails down Adam’s chest, leaving burning red marks against the sun tanned skin. Looking up through his eyelashes, he presses his lips to Adam’s pubic bone, almost lovingly.

Ronan can’t help but notice that Adam has Kavinsky’s full attention; he never once looks over at Ronan. Ronan should know; he has never taken his eyes off the boy worshiping Adam. Ronan craves something, feeling a throbbing, clenching, pang of pain in his chest, as he watches the boys. His heart is beating loudly in his chest as Kavinsky continues sucking, Adam’s fingers still knotted in Kavinsky’s hair, muttering words too low to make out.

Ronan runs his tongue over his teeth, dry mouthed. This is not what he wanted, he wanted Kavinsky out of Adam’s life, and he came here to do whatever was needed, and now… this. He can see that Adam is close, and from Kavinsky’s humming, he is aware as well. Ronan storms out of the bathroom, and as he rushes through the house he hears Kavinsky’s laugh echoing in his head.

He runs quickly outside. He’s upset, he’s angry, he shouldn’t have left Adam alone but he can’t bring himself to go back. Not to that. He feels he has to destroy something. Someone. Something.

He looks around him and Kavinsky’s car is right there, expensive and ugly and adored. He picks up a rock.

*

Kavinsky spits in the shower and rinses his mouth with some cold water. His jaw aches a bit but it was worth it, it was more than worth it, he could feel Lynch coming undone behind him, and the sound of him running away was sweeter than any music.

Lynch will be back, he always comes back, and this time he’ll be angry and sad and lost and he’ll want so many things.

And Kavinsky has had Parrish, so one of the things Lynch will want will be him. Not just because it’s convenient, or easy. But because it’s him.

Kavinsky expected Parrish to leave right away but the boy is still standing at the bathroom door, watching him. “What?” he asks. “Do I have jizz on my face?”

“I don’t understand you,” Parrish says.

“Nothing to understand,” Kavinsky shrugs. “Now fuck off before I decide to keep you here forever.”

Parrish still hasn’t move and keeps staring at him, and Kavinsky can feel himself getting annoyed so he pushes the boy aside and walks outside to check if Lynch left.

*

When Kavinsky finds Lynch, he is throwing rocks at the Evo, too angry to do much damage beyond scratching the white paint. Kavinsky leans back against the door and lights up a cigarette while watching Ronan’s back muscles work under his intricate tattoo.

Massaging his throbbing jaw slightly, he eventually grows tired of just watching and finds the bat that is kept next to the door. It has never been used before, but now he walks over to his car and uses all his force to smash in the windshield. It takes a couple of tries, but he gets it done eventually. Lynch stops and stares at him while he’s working, but when he’s done he comes over and punches him hard in his already-sore jaw, throwing him into the gravel.

“What the fuck did you do that for, Kavinsky? Why the fuck would you do that?” He keeps talking while kicking Kavinsky in the stomach, in the back, wherever he can get access. Kavinsky takes it all, closing his eyes and telling himself that this, this is how Ronan Lynch shows love. It might not be gentle eyes and protective gestures, but it’s something, it’s Kavinsky’s.

When Ronan is finished, Kavinsky spits blood before crawling over to the trashed car, leaning against the passenger door. “You feel better now, princess?” he asks, and Ronan swears and kicks him again, but gentler this time.

Kavinsky leans his head on his knees, feeling a little woozy, but he looks up when he feels Ronan settle next to him, spitting, saying “You’re such fucking trash, Kavinsky. Such fucking trash, I don’t know why I bother. Why the hell didn’t you just let him go?”

Kavinsky laughs. “When have I ever turned down a free dick?”

Ronan tries to punch him again, but Kavinsky deflects it.

“Calm the fuck down. It’s not like he didn’t want it. It’s not like I did anything wrong. He’s not your fucking property, Lynch. Maybe he likes his boys dirty, what do you know?”

Ronan swears before getting up from the ground and starts pacing restlessly. “You fucker, you fucking ruined everything. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Kavinsky chuckles, leaning his head back to the warm aluminum of the car.

“It would never be anything with the speed you were going. I did you a fucking favor, Lynch. He’ll be thirsty as fuck from now on, trust me. You don’t go back from this.”

Ronan drags a hand over his shaved head, shaking it and, oh God, he looks scared. Ronan Lynch is fucking terrified.

 

"Come on, princess," Kavinsky says, approaching Lynch slowly. "He’s going to want you. And if he doesn’t, fuck him, you can do better anyway."

 _You can have me,_ he doesn’t say. _I will still want you,_ he doesn’t say. Kavinsky is a master at talking without actually saying anything.

He walks closer to Lynch and it’s like approaching a wounded animal, scared and furious with itself for being scared. But Kavinsky knows him and he grabs his hand before it turns into a fist and he twists it behind his back, and he twists and he pulls until Lynch screams. He steps back and Lynch cradles his arm to his chest, but he looks calmer. His friends have everything, Parrish has everything, but Kavinsky has this, he is the only one who has this, the power to pull Lynch back from whatever dark place his mind turns into sometimes.

“Want to go inside for a second round?” Kavinsky asks with a grin. “All this wrestling with you looking like that, Lynch, has had its effect.”

Lynch shakes his head.

“I’m taking Adam home, Kavinsky,” he says and walks towards the house.

 

“How are you going to get home, Lynch,” Kavinsky calls after him and Ronan stops, “when you don’t have a fucking car? You just wrecked mine, and yours is still where you left it.”

Ronan turns around and grips Kavinsky by his top, feeling the aggression pulsing in his temples. Kavinsky purrs in response.

“Dream us a new one, K.”

“No can do,” he grins, “all out of juice.”

“Then get Proko to pick up my car.”

“Proko. Ah, Proko has the day off.”

Ronan releases him slowly, deliberately smiling slowly.

“I’ll call Gansey. He’ll come pick us up.”

Before he can continue, a voice sounds from the door.

“Don’t.”

They both turn around, and see Adam standing there, in Ronan’s top and his own jeans.

“What will we tell him, Ronan? He can’t come here to pick us up.”

Kavinsky chuckles. “Pretty boy has a point, princess. Are you ready to tell Daddy everything? About what happened in the shower, then outside of the shower, and then inside again? Oh, he will love that, us corrupting his charity case.”

Ronan turns, frustrated. The fucker has a point. He can’t do that to Adam.

“I’ll tell him you threatened us with a gun,” he responds. “I’ll tell him we got away, not to press charges, and that I’ll deal with you my way.”

Kavinsky’s eyebrows wiggle suggestively. “Sounds tempting, Lynch, but not even Dick is that stupid.”

Ronan walks towards Adam, throwing “I’ll make sure he doesn’t ask any questions” over his shoulder, but Adam is flinching away.

“Did you know about Gansey and Blue, Ronan?”

Ronan freezes.

That _fucker._ That fucking _asshole._

Adam sees all the answers he needs on Ronan’s face, and pushes him away, hurt written all over him.

“I can’t believe it. You’re a shit friend, Ronan. I’m staying here.”

Kavinsky lets out a surprised laugh. “What makes you think I want you, sweetheart?”

“What are you going to do to stop me, Kavinsky, carry me back to my flat?” Adam says, cocking his head to the side. Kavinsky shrugs as if he’s considering, but mostly he looks amused. Adam wishes he could see the humor in the situation.

“Adam, stop fucking around. You’re mad, I get it, and that’s why we should go back home,” Ronan says angrily. “You’ll talk to Blue and Gansey or not talk to anyone or whatever but we’ll be away from this shithole.” Adam shakes his head and Ronan kicks the car as if he can’t stop himself.

“For fuck’s sake, Adam!” he yells. “Do you want to stay here and be Kavinsky’s fuck toy?”

Kavinsky is watching them with a pleased expression as if there’s no solution to their situation that won’t be beneficial to him. Adam thinks he’s probably right. Ronan is yelling at him still, about responsibility and Gansey and Blue and how nothing has happened between them, not really, excuse after excuse after excuse.

He stops after a while, and takes a deep breath. “If I promise not to call Gansey, or tell him anything will you come home?” Ronan asks, taking out his cellphone.

“Don’t call the police,” Kavinsky says, looking only mildly inconvenienced at the thought of policemen at his house.

“I’m not,” Ronan said. “Well, Adam, are you coming home?”

*

Adam is hurting. There is a big black hole where his friendship with Ronan used to be, where the trust between them used to be. Blue and Gansey was one thing, but Ronan not telling him that he was gay, that he wanted Adam, when Adam had confessed to him how unwanted and lost he was, how he felt like he never fit in anywhere?

“I know this is confusing, Adam,” Ronan said gently, “I understand that there are a lot of questions. Let me take you home, and we can deal with them later. Let us sleep on it, okay?”

Adam knows he’s acting like a spoilt kid, but he can’t help it.

“I am used to feeling unwelcome, I think I’ll stay. At least Kavinsky tells me the truth.”

Ronan is still moving slowly towards him, arms out, defensive, calm. “It’s just a part of his games, Adam. Everything is a part of his games.” Kavinsky laughs sharply, and Ronan reaches Adam, touches his arm gently, with only the tips of his fingers. “I’m here, Adam, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, and you know I don’t say that often. Please, tell me how to fix this.”

“When have you ever fixed anything, Lynch?” Kavinsky says, laughing. Ronan feels something unscrew inside of his and he’s angry again, at himself for being a mess, at Kavinsky, and mostly at Adam, at Adam for not understanding, for acting like a child.

“Kavinsky held a gun to your head, drugged you, and kidnapped you all in the last twelve hours. Are you really telling me that this is a person you can trust more than you can trust me?”

He is not touching Adam. He is not touching Adam because he knows that he’ll bruise him, he knows that he’ll hold him too tightly and he won’t be any better than anyone else then, no better than Joseph Kavinsky, no better than Robert fucking Parrish. He forces himself to calm down.

When have you ever fixed anything, Kavinsky mocks in his mind.

Chainsaw, Ronan thinks. I raised Chainsaw.

He takes a deep breath and tries to block Kavinsky’s voice from his thoughts.

“Adam, come home,” he says and it’s more of a sigh than words. “Kavinsky is nothing but a liar and a thief.”

“I don’t want to see any of you right now, Ronan,” Adam says and he sounds terrible but I don’t want to see you doesn’t mean I don’t want to leave and Ronan latches onto that.

“Then don’t. I’ll call someone to pick you up. It won’t be Gansey. You can go back to St. Agnes and never talk to us again if that’s what you want. Just leave this place.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “Who are you going to call?”

Ronan pauses. There is only one possible answer and it kills him but it will get Adam away, and that’s what counts right now: getting him out before Kavinsky ruins him completely.

“Declan,” he says. “I’ll call Declan.”

*

After the quick phone call, telling Declan to come pick Adam up, “I’ll explain later”, “yes, I’ll meet up with your new girlfriend, I’ll behave, I just need you to do this for me”, “thank you”, “I mean it”, Ronan addresses Kavinsky.

“Get me a shirt. I can’t look like this when Declan shows.”

Kavinsky, laying on the dash of the Evo in the low sunlight, on top of glittering splinters of glass, looks up at him.

“I don’t think anything will fit, big boy. Personally, I’m on the cocaine and cigarette diet, keeps me slim, feeling top—”

Ronan pushes him off the hood, and he hits the ground with a satisfying sound.

“Just do it.” Kavinsky is now looking sourly, dusting off his sunglasses.

“I’m not fucking doing anything if you’re acting like that. You can go find a fucking t-shirt yourself, asshole.”

Ronan laughs. “I’m not leaving Adam with you.” Adam, who is sitting in front of the door, is not looking at any of them.

“Well, then,” Kavinsky hoists himself back up onto the hood, “take him with you. You know where my bedroom is.”

Adam is about to protest for being treated like a baby or a pet, but Ronan just called Declan. Declan. And he was civil and he promised to meet the new girlfriend, and he voluntarily contacted his brother. Adam feels like complaining about Ronan is a bit ungrateful at the moment.

“Come on,” he says. “If nothing fits then you can have your shirt back and I’ll take his.”

Ronan seems surprised that Adam is talking to him and Adam can’t help but feel a little guilty at that. Still, he follows Ronan inside.

“Noah was the only one who knew,” Ronan says when they’re inside and away from Kavinsky. He is walking in front of Adam, not looking back, and the muscles on his back are tense, like he’s expecting Adam to hit him or something. “Well and Kavinsky, obviously,” he adds after a while. “But I never had to tell anyone they just, figured it out.”

“Gansey doesn’t know?” Adam asks. Ronan laughs and it doesn’t sound pretty.

“Gansey? With all the shit Kavinsky gives him about fucking me? Can you imagine learning that I’m gay on top of that? I wouldn’t risk it.”

They walk into Kavinsky’s room and Ronan opens a door that turns out to be the closet. Adam wonders how many times he’s been here, how long he has been hiding from them.

“See anything that might fit me and not infuriate Declan?” Ronan asks, trying to find something in the mess that is Kavinsky’s closet.

“Just take your shirt back,” Adam says and pulls it off. “I think I can survive the mortification of Declan seeing me in one of Kavinsky’s t-shirts.”

Ronan grabs his shirt, and pulls it on quickly, before continuing to look through the closet, throwing clothes on the floor behind him as he dismissed them. Adam starts looking around the room. He doesn’t know what he expected, but it’s not this. The dark room is small and fairly clean although quite messy, with posters all over the walls, and a book case full of closed up boxes and records and DVDs. His bed is made, still looks crisp, and Adam realizes that Kavinsky probably doesn’t spend much time in here.

“They have cleaners coming over,” Ronan says, as if he could read Adam’s mind. “His mother isn’t up for chores, to put it mildly.”

Adam touches the bed gingerly. “Where does he sleep?” he asks softly. Ronan looks at him and it takes some time before he answers.

“His car, mainly. He doesn’t sleep much. Occasionally in the basement, I think.”

He takes a step towards the bed. “Adam,” he says, his voice pleading. Adam looks up and Ronan is so close, so close Adam can feel his breath, and for a second Adam thinks something will happen, and then it does, Ronan is slowly moving towards him, lips quivering, eyes questioning, and he is so close, so close. Adam turns his head away and grabs a random t-shirt from the floor before getting out of the room. It is red like his Coca Cola one, but on front it says “6.9 — good until you add the period”.

He waits in the hall until Ronan follows him, and makes a non-committing sound. “We should get outside,” Ronan sighs. “I don’t want Kavinsky alone with Declan.”

*

Declan’s car is coming up the road as they exit the house, a cloud of dust appearing behind it. Declan stops next to the broken Evo, his face hidden in shadows. They wait for him to get out of the car, but he doesn’t.

“Hey Parrish,” Kavinsky says over the motor. “Nice fucking choice! Personal favorite of mine.”

Ronan ignores the other boy, pushing Adam towards the car. “Get in.”

Adam hesitates.

“I’m gonna want that back though,” Kavinsky continues. “Will you come visit me again, lover boy?”

“Just get in the fucking car,” Ronan continues, pushing Adam hard now, opening the door for him, and then he’s inside and the door closes and Declan drives away without a word, a disapproving look on his face.

As Adam leaves, Ronan can see him looking out the back at him, wide-eyed. As the car disappears down the road, dust clouds his vision, and Ronan legs give out. He falls to the ground. Broken. That could have been the last time he saw Adam. That could be the last thing he ever said to him. That could be the last time Adam Parrish was in his life.

Kavinsky doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t think there’s something to do. He doesn’t do comfort anyway. He clenches his hands and takes a step. Lynch turns to look at him and Kavinsky can’t understand Parrish, he really can’t, because if half the emotion in Lynch’s face right now was because of him, he’d lock him in a room and keep him there forever.

“I need a fucking drink,” Lynch says and his voice is raw like he’s been screaming for hours.

Kavinsky nods. “I have vodka inside,” he says. Lynch nods and follows him in. They barely make it past the door before he has Lynch pressed against the wall, biting bruises on his neck. Lynch is silent, uncharacteristically so, but he pulls Kavinsky closer again every time he moves away and he kisses him like he has something to prove.

Kavinsky lets himself be thrown around, tries to give as hard as he gets and then they’re rutting together like horny virgins and Lynch is still not saying a word and after he comes he leans his head on Kavinsky’s shoulder and Kavinsky thinks he’s crying.

“Vodka?” he says after a moment.

Kavinsky brings them vodka.

*

Adam sits in the back of Declan’s car, looking out the window at the passing scenery. The car smells new, barely used, with just a hint of a feminine perfume. Declan looks in the rearview mirror.

“You look terrible, Adam. What were you doing up at the Kavinsky mansion?” Adam ignores him, so he continues. “I have told Ronan time and time again to stay away from that kid. He is a bad influence, ever since dad died—”

Adam interrupts him sharply. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Look, I’m grateful you came to pick me up and everything, but this is something you and Ronan need to deal with. Or does all your communication go through Gansey?”

The last comment shuts Declan up, his face frozen. Adam rubs his face with his palms, trying not to think but he can’t help it. How could he leave Ronan? He could have just come with. Now he’s alone with Kavinsky; who knows what would happen?

He starts feeling like he might be sick, so he opens the window and lets the air envelop him. The roar of the wind drowns out most of his thoughts, but the problem with one-sided hearing loss is that there can never be enough noise. Defeated, he rolls the window back up before addressing Declan.

“We need to turn around and pick up Ronan,” he says.

“Not happening,” Declan replies curtly. “He is not my problem. He asked me to pick you up, we made a deal. Him coming down with me was not one of them.”

Adam is too tired to argue. “At least let me borrow your phone to call him, see how he’s doing.” Declan picks up his phone and hands it to Adam, who unsteadily punches in the numbers. He lets it ring for what seems like forever, but no one’s on the other line. Trying again, two, three times, before handing the phone back to Declan, closing his eyes, feeling hollow.

Of course he isn’t picking up.

Why would he? Why would Ronan want to talk to Adam after what he said, how he behaved? Maybe he’s looking at the screen and laughing with Kavinsky, laughing at the pathetic boy calling mere minutes after having left.

Maybe Adam has ruined everything. Maybe Adam finally has managed to break the only thing keeping him together.

Maybe his father was right. Maybe the reason Adam Parrish is alone is Adam Parrish.

When they pass the place where Adam left the bike, he sees that it’s gone. Pulling in next to St. Agnes, Adam tries a smile at Declan as he exits the car, but Declan doesn’t even dignify him with a look.

Slowly, Adam ascends the stairs, and closes the door behind him.

*

Kavinsky pours him a shot for every time Ronan’s phone rings.

“Gansey again?” he asks. Kavinsky looks at his phone and nods.

“How many so far, princess?” he asks putting the shot glass in front of Ronan.

“Fifteen?” Ronan doesn’t know. Ronan can’t really think. For all he knows, Kavinsky is just playing his ringtone again and again as an excuse for more shots. Not that Ronan’s complaining.

The way they’re going he might even manage to sleep during the night.

Kavinsky deletes the calls from Lynch’s phone.

Declan.

Declan.

And then Dick, call after call after call.

He deletes them all and pours Lynch another shot.

“What’s that for?” Lynch asks and Kavinsky grins.

“That’s because you’re so pretty. Now open up,” Kavinsky says and places a pill on his tongue. Lynch swallows and closes his eyes.

*

In the heavy air, Adam has trouble falling asleep, twisting and turning in his sheets. He can’t seem to calm down, his mind a constant carousel of pictures and questions and emotions he is not ready to deal with yet. He thinks about Ronan and Kavinsky together, Ronan and Kavinsky outside of the shower, Ronan and Kavinsky alone in the house, wondering what they are doing.

He still feels guilty about leaving Ronan, but he is no longer sure if the reason he doesn’t want Ronan alone with Kavinsky is for the fear of what they might do, or for the fear of what they might do without him.

He presses down into his mattress hard, pinched eyebrows, feeling wrong, before turning on his back, and sighing deeply, frustrated. Adam gets up, pulls on the same jeans he arrived in but finds a new t-shirt, in case Kavinsky wants the offensive one back, before finding the key to his piece-of-shit car. It sputters when he starts it, but eventually he is on his way, awkwardly handling the clutch.

Finding his way in the moonlight is easy even if only one of the headlights is working, and soon he can see the house silhouette in front of him. The gravel chatters under the wheels in the heavy silence as he pulls up outside the door he had left only hours ago. He can hear Ronan’s drunken voice from the roof top, and can see the two boys up there, laughing, drinking, and leaning against each other.

Adam contemplates turning back, but he can’t help it — no matter how pathetic he feels showing up like this, he’d rather be here than at St. Agnes alone. Even though the apartment is small and clustered, there is too much space for thinking.

Taking a shivering breath, he walks up to the door and enters without knocking.

*

Kavinsky hears someone climb the stairs and looks back, only to see Parrish, carrying his t-shirt and looking at Ronan.

“The fuck are you doing here, Parrish?” he asks, and he hears Ronan nearly jump up, turning to look at him as well.

“Adam, what…” Ronan says and then doesn’t say anything else. He just looks at Parrish with a ridiculously pleased expression that makes Kavinsky feel weird. Possessive and jealous.

Jealous. Of the charity case.

But Parrish has no right to appear like that and steal Ronan away as if he ever had a right to him.

“Ronan, man, are you okay?” Parrish asks, walking to the edge of the roof and reaching out as if stroke Ronan’s hair or something equally ridiculous.

Ronan turns to look at Kavinsky though, even though Parrish is right there. Ronan turns to look at Kavinsky and sort of kind of smiles and Kavinsky smiles back because that’s better, much better, that’s how things should be. He tries to remember how much he gave him to drink. A couple of bottles definitely, plus the pills.

No wonder Ronan is smiling.

“Did you dream him up for me? Not your best forgery,” Lynch comments, looking at Parrish critically, “but it’s better than nothing,” and Kavinsky would have felt offended that Lynch counted him as ‘nothing’ if he didn’t remember how Ronan had attacked him earlier. At that point he hadn’t even been drunk.

Parrish looks slightly confused, and Kavinsky needs to do something before he puts two and two together. Having Lynch believing Parrish was a dream creature only proves that even though Kavinsky usually didn’t plan things, they generally worked out in his favor.

Putting his arm on Parrish’s back, he pushes him towards Lynch. “Aren’t you going to welcome our friend, Lynch? Don’t be rude.”

Lynch steps forward and, cupping the back of Parrish’s head, leans in and put their lips together. The other boy freezes for a moment before easing into it. Kavinsky might even consider it enthusiastic, if he believed Parrish was capable of such emotion. He shakes his head slightly. Thirsty. Just as he predicted.

The way Ronan kisses Parrish is different from the way he kisses him, Kavinsky notices. Before, Lynch was all hands and teeth and maximum contact, like Kavinsky was the only thing keeping him afloat, but now his hands barely brush Parrish and he kisses him like one tastes one’s favorite food after a long time. The hunger is still there, but wrapped around it is nothing but pure joy at the opportunity. 

When Parrish pulls back, Ronan chases his lips with his own and weaves his fingers through his hair, keeping him in place. Kavinsky walks behind Ronan and pulls him back to his chest, earning a cry of protest.

“Easy princess, he’s not going anywhere,” Kavinsky says. “We have all night.” He looks at Parrish, daring him to disagree. Parrish is still looking at Ronan, frowning.

“How much has he had to drink?” Parrish asks.

“Does it matter?” Kavinsky retorts, putting the bottle of vodka back in Ronan’s hands. “As long as he can still get it up, he’s good to go.”

“Not your whore, Kavinsky,” Ronan says and pulls away from Kavinsky’s hands a little.

“I dreamed you your stable-boy, princess,” Kavinsky says, grinning at Parrish. “You owe me.”

Taking a swing from the bottle, Lynch turns around and grinds their lips together. His mouth tastes like vodka, pure and lethal, more like life to Kavinsky than water ever was. Their tongues are straining against each other, warm and wet and violent, giving Kavinsky solid proof that this craving he has for Ronan Lynch will never be killed. Their hands are all over each other’s bodies, tugging and demanding, vulgar in their desperation, and Kavinsky vows that he will give Lynch more gifts in the future if this is how he returns them.

Then Lynch steps back, short of breath, and drags a hand over his wet mouth, eyes avid and wretched. Oh yes, maybe Lynch was delicate with Parrish, but he was physical and frantic and venomous with Kavinsky.

With Kavinsky, Lynch was himself.

He tugs Lynch back towards his body hard, putting an anonymous pill on his own tongue before showing it into the other boy’s welcoming mouth, teaching and sharing, and messily kissing down Lynch’s neck when he feels him swallow.

Bringing their foreheads together, he stares into Lynch’s eyes intently, before placing another pill on the other boy’s tongue, hoping he understands. And he does, his brilliant student does, he turns around and grabs Parrish and brings their mouths together, and Kavinsky can see the tongue with the pill changing partner, he can see Parrish closing his eyes, brow knotted, and he can see him swallow, devouring both the pill and the taste of the two.

Grinning, he takes the bottle from Lynch and brings it to his lips.

Now the party can finally start.

*

Kavinsky almost wonders if Ronan was right, if one of them did dream Parrish there without noticing. Parrish moves between them like the dirtiest dream Kavinsky ever had, letting them kiss him and touch him like he’s something other than human, like he’s less than real.

“How do you think he’ll feel when he learns that the first time he kissed you he was drunk and high and thought you were a sex dream?” he whispers in Parrish’s ear and grinds their hips together, forcing his thigh between his legs.

“Shut up,” Parrish says. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.” 

Kavinsky turns to look at Lynch who is looking at them like there is nothing in the world he wanted more. It’s probably true. Kavinsky reaches out and pulls him closer. Ronan comes easily, kissing Kavinsky over Adam’s head, stopping only to take off the boy’s shirt and run his hands over his body. 

Then Lynch whispers something in Parrish’s ear and the boy stills. Parrish turns to look at him and reaches out with trembling hands to turn Lynch’s face to his, and looks into his eyes.

“I am,” Parrish says and he pulls Lynch’s hands to his chest. “Ronan, I am.”

Lynch shakes his head though and lets his hands fall, and reaches out to Kavinsky. It’s probably the pills, Kavinsky thinks. Lynch has always been a moody bastard, and he couldn’t remember how many things they’d mixed between the sex and the alcohol. He lets go of Parrish and focuses his attention on Lynch.

“You’re real,” Lynch says and it’s almost a question but it’s an almost question that Kavinsky understands and he nods. He pushes Lynch down and his hands are cruel but when Lynch goes inside his head Kavinsky is the one to bring him back and he does it like that with his cock down Lynch’s throat and his hands on Lynch’s head.

“Fuck, Lynch,” he groans when Lynch hums around his length, and thrusts in deeper. There’s a choked sound from where Parrish is standing and Kavinsky grins at him, victorious.

“Too bad you’re not real, eh, Parrish?” he laughs.

Ronan can feel himself grounding with every thrust Kavinsky forces himself into his mouth, taking it willingly, glad to have fingers firm around his head, achingly real, cause Ronan is no longer sure what is and what isn’t. Adam—no, the dream—is crouching down next to him, trying to get his attention, but Ronan ignores it as best he can. It looks too much like Adam, but there is still something wrong, something unsettling about the creature, and Ronan just needs to be here, now, with a real person.

At one point, it forces Ronan away from between Kavinsky’s legs, kissing him hard, but Ronan shoves it away before continuing with Kavinsky, his mouth pulsating uncomfortably when empty.

When Kavinsky finishes, Ronan takes it all, he needs all of reality he can get, and as the heat moves inside him he feels himself centering just a little. Kavinsky leads Ronan up by his chin, kissing him more gently than usual, tasting himself on Ronan’s tongue, and Ronan wishes he could go live inside the other boy, for just a little while to calm his thoughts, cause everything out here is so confusing and too much to take in.

Then there is a bottle in his hand and he takes a swig but it tastes like nothing so he begs for another treat from Kavinsky, pleading and praising before Kavinsky gives in, laughing, and there’s a pill on his tongue, and then the tongue is in Ronan’s mouth, and there are teeth biting Ronan’s lips, and the taste of blood fills him, and he accepts it gratefully.

There is something tugging at the back of his mind, something he wishes he could forget, and maybe he has, cause he is not sure what it is, and then the chemicals hit his bloodstream and as he is here and nowhere at the same time he yells up towards the stars, loudly.

*

Adam doesn’t know what to do. He is standing apart from the two boys, watching after Ronan pushed him away.

Ronan pushed him away because Ronan believed he was nothing but a dream, because Ronan wasn’t acting like himself, he was needy and sad and eating out of Kavinsky’s hand like a dog and Adam doesn’t recognize that boy. He’s not sure he wants to.

But Kavinsky’s not drunk. Of course he’s not. Kavinsky watches everything and profits, fucking Ronan’s face like he’s nothing, and giving them pills like candy.

“Why can’t you be real?” Ronan had whispered. “Just once.” And then he had walked away, even though Adam tried to tell him he was, he was. 

Ronan is howling at the moon and for a second he looks normal but then he tries to take a step and falters, drunk, so drunk, and Kavinsky laughs and tosses him the bottle again and Adam throws up pills and alcohol and bile because he can’t help but feel that this is partly his fault, his fault for getting in that car, his fault for leaving him behind, his fault for not calling Gansey immediately.

He walks back to them and washes his mouth clean with some vodka, and the buzz is all gone now, and he’s just Adam again, standing on a rooftop with an empty stomach and a bottle of vodka, while his best friend drinks and drugs himself with Kavinsky. 

Kavinsky sees him and walks away from Ronan, smiling like he’s won. Adam thinks he’s probably right. “Feeling lonely?” he asks. “If you want, he will probably let you fuck him now.” Kavinsky smiles when Adam’s eyes widen. “As long as I’m there too, of course, to remind him of what’s real and what’s just his poor hopeless fantasies.”

Adam takes a few faltering steps towards the others; Kavinsky, grinning slightly, and Ronan slumped on the ground, looking at Adam like he doesn’t really see him.

Adam moves toward Kavinsky slowly before punching him in the face, but Kavinsky doesn’t even fall down, he just laughs, delirious, and wipes his nose, “Is that what goes as foreplay in your family, Parrish? If you like it rough, you’re with the right crowd,” and Adam is on him again. His father had not taught him how to fight, but he taught him which spots hurt, and a fist to the temple send Kavinsky to the ground, out for at least a couple of seconds.

Ronan straddles the unconscious boy and shakes him lightly. He doesn’t budge when Adam takes his hand, begging him to come, he has a car, they can leave, and then Kavinsky’s eyes open and with his arms around Ronan’s neck they kiss hard, desperate, animalistic, and Adam doesn’t understand, doesn’t get what they have, this mutual need for each other’s desire and destruction.

He turns to leave but before he can get to the stairs he can feel hands on his shoulders, turning him around, and it’s Ronan, looking questioning and terrified and very much himself, although not at all.

“You’re real?” he asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer, he just sinks down and curls up and his back is shaking violently, and Adam doesn’t know what else to do so he lies down next to him, holding him close as he whispers soothing words.

*

Ronan hates this. Ronan hates this. Even when it feels good, even when his blood sings and there is darkness behind his eyes, even when the world is simple and loud and quiet all at once, he hates this.

He opens his eyes and he’s in Cabeswater. He closes his eyes and he’s on Kavinsky’s roof.

Or is it the other way around?

He closes his eyes and Adam is walking away. He opens his eyes and Adam is walking away.

That is the one certainty of his world, Ronan thinks, Adam walking away from him. On the roof, Adam’s nearly on the stairs; in Cabeswater Adam’s nearly lost between the trees. The trees say catch him. The trees say danger. The roof doesn’t say anything but Kavinsky’s mouth on his neck says want, it says leave him alone, it says I want to fuck you until you’re mine.

But Ronan closes his mind and he’s in Cabeswater and Kavinsky isn’t there because Kavinsky is a thief and a liar, and it’s funny how Ronan reminds that to everyone yet always forgets it himself. 

Ronan runs after Adam.

In Cabeswater Adam has awoken the ley line and his blood sings to Ronan when he touches him, and he’s not a dream because there he is on Kavinsky’s roof, looking like he has swallowed a star, all light and brilliance. He looks at Ronan and it’s almost too much, too much, bright and hot and wonderful and Ronan falls again, Ronan collapses and he’s shaking but then Adam touches him and he’s real and he kissed him and now Adam touches him and he wants to cry. There are things he wants to say but they are too big and too good to be spoken like that so he shakes his head a lot and repeats Adam’s name, like a prayer or a spell.

*

When Adam wakes up, his legs are hot and sweaty and tangled with Ronan’s, his upper body protected by Ronan’s arms, clutching desperately, and even in sleep Ronan’s face is worried. The sun has just started to come up, it’s early still, and its golden rays make the previously hectic and violent rooftop seem peaceful.

Adam takes some time separating his own limbs from Ronan’s, trying not to wake him, and then he sits up and stretches, yawning, his head pounding slightly. He moves silently down from the floor, finds the bathroom from yesterday and takes a piss, splashes some cold water in his face.

Bringing up a glass, he heads back up to the roof. He sits down next to Kavinsky who has placed himself on the edge of the roof, smoking. He doesn’t look like he’s slept at all.

“I don’t know if you even drink this, but I figured,” he mumbles and places the liquid down next to the other boy, who still isn’t looking at him. Adam joins him in taking in the view, wondering how much it costs to be able to see all of Henrietta from your roof. From St. Agnes he can see the parking lot, and parts of the public graveyard.

After some minutes, Kavinsky finally speaks. “I don’t know what he sees in you, man. What you have that I don’t have, I mean.” He takes a deep drag from his cigarette before stumping it out and lighting a new. Adam doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Fuck,” Kavinsky continues, “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I’m coming up blank. I give him what he wants. He gives me what I want. It worked out pretty fucking well until you happened.”

Adam looks at him, smiling. “If it makes you feel better, I still don’t understand you.”

“Nothing to understand,” Kavinsky repeats. He takes another deep drag before throwing the half-finished stub off the roof. “Fuck!” He leans his head back and lets out a broken sigh.

Up until yesterday, the only thing Adam knew about Kavinsky were rumors. He doesn’t feel much wiser today. 

“Here,” he says, getting up. “Let me try something.” 

Pushing Kavinsky to his back gently, he positions one knee on each side of his lean body, before placing his hands on Kavinsky’s raw bony shoulders. “Don’t do anything,” he warns, before leaning down and kissing him softly on the lips. Repeating this, he eases his tongue in lightly, taking his time, slowly sucking, carefully tasting the salt and nicotine on his breath.

When Kavinsky starts responding, Adam stops and waits until the other boy calms down before continuing. No one has ever been gentle with Adam, and he is starting to suspect that no one has ever been gentle with Kavinsky either.

What first had been a boring look in Kavinsky’s eyes soon turns dark, and he lets Adam explore his mouth, licking over his teeth, pressing their faces together, breathing each other in before Adam leaves his lips to nip carefully at his neck, at his collarbone, at his shoulders, letting his tongue soothe the sharp pain, never leaving marks, that is not the point.

Kavinsky lies still underneath Adam’s mouth and hands, letting him slowly explore and caress and roam, and Adam can feel Kavinsky hardening under him, but he is no longer desperate, he is calmer, expecting, allowing Adam to tease him softly. When Adam lets his hand sneak in between them, the gasp that comes from his lips is not as much a sound of surprise as a sound of welcome.

He gets Kavinsky off slowly, gently, and when they’re both done he lies back on the roof and watches the clouds. Kavinsky lights another cigarette.

“He’ll take whatever you give him,” Kavinsky says after a while, when the silence between them becomes too heavy. “He’ll take it and he’ll be glad for it, even if he deserves better.”

Adam nods because he knows. “And what about you?” he asks.

Kavinsky just laughs. “What about me, loverboy?” he says, turning to look at Ronan. “I’ll take what he gives me and steal what he won’t.”

“Like me,” Adam says and Kavinsky nods.

“Like you.”

*

Ronan thinks he might have been throwing up before he was even awake, because when he regains consciousness he is in the middle of it, spewing up what might have been pure vodka.

Shit, what in the hell happened last night?

Lying back, he tries not to feel his body hurting, every part having a separate complaint. He struggles to think back — the kidnapping, the shower, Adam leaving. Suddenly, his body aches even more and he leans over to dry heave. Nothing left. Ronan is empty. Where is he, even?

Blinking against the stinging sunlight, he realizes he is on a rooftop. The Kavinsky’s roof, for fuck’s sake. He groans slightly before starting to look for his phone, tapping down his body and the surrounding area randomly.

Gansey must be worried sick. It is a wonder he hadn’t come look for him here, really. He wonders if Gansey has called Declan, and if Declan has kept shut.

Realizing his phone isn’t anywhere close, he gets up slowly to see if Kavinsky knows where he left it. Where is the fucker, anyway? He might not be a cuddler but he usually lingers, if only to mock him for looking like shit in the morning.

Kavinsky is sitting on the edge of the roof and there’s someone lying on the roof next to him. Ronan feels weird for a second, almost jealous, and looks at the other person.

“Adam?” Ronan asks and the boy startles up, surprised. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Kavinsky leans back to look at him and smiles. “Morning, princess. You look like shit,” he said and held a half empty glass of water out to him. 

Ronan took it. Being mad is easier when his head isn’t pounding. “Kavinsky, why is Adam here?” he asked, watching the boy. 

If Adam came on his own free will then does that mean he’s forgiven? Was Adam worried? 

He feels like there’s a void inside his head filled with things that he should remember but doesn’t, things that he’s lost for good.

Kavinsky looks away from them. “Parrish here came to pick you up, return you to the rest of the world,” he says, tossing Ronan his cellphone. “Your girlfriend, Dick, must have called you at least 20 times last night and another ten this morning.”

As Ronan calls Gansey, Adam can’t help but wonder how much Ronan actually remembers from last night. Adam’s own memories are blurry at best, but he can remember enough to hope that Ronan doesn’t have a recollection of any of it. He is not sure why Kavinsky hasn’t mentioned anything. Maybe he will use it for blackmail later (as if Adam has anything to pay him with), but he is grateful for the discretion.

He realizes that Gansey has picked up when Ronan holds the phone away from his ear, his expression pained, until the voice on the other end has settled down.

“Was out,” he says.

“No.”

“No, ‘m fine.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Nowhere, man.”

“It’s not your fucking problem, okay?”

and Adam can see that a fight is building so he gets up and takes the phone from Ronan’s rigid grip before turning away.

“Hey,” he breathes into the mobile.

“Adam! Good, you’re with him, I thought Ronan was being Ronan again,” Gansey says and Adam wants to tell him that he was, that Gansey shouldn’t sound so relieved. “Where should I come pick you up from?”

“No need,” Adam says and Ronan looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “I came prepared. Shit car to the rescue.” His words sound forced even to himself but he can’t remember how he used to speak to Gansey before, well, everything. He reassures him again that they’re fine, they’re coming to Monmouth soon, yes, Ronan needs to feed Chainsaw, we all know that, and then he hangs up.

“I thought you were angry at him,” Ronan says. “At us. Angry enough to want to stay here. But apparently the anger wasn’t important, was it?”

Adam shakes his head.

“You just wanted to stay here,” Ronan says and his voice is cold. “Which is your right, I can’t stop you from getting drunk and high and fucking around with Kavinsky whenever you want but stop hiding behind yourself. It’s pathetic, Parrish.”

“Jealous, Lynch?” Kavinsky says with a grin that’s downright lecherous and Adam can’t remember why he ever wanted to kiss him. “We can share him again if you feel too left out.”

“Again?” Ronan says. “What do you mean again?”

Adam shakes his head.

“What does he fucking mean?” Ronan says again angrily, eyes biting into Adam, and Adam isn’t dealing with this now, he isn’t, so he walks away.

“We’re leaving,” he throws over his shoulder but gets back a harsh, derisive laugh.

“So now you want to leave. Figures. Adam fucking Parrish, always running away from his problems.” Adrenaline flaring, Adam stops, tensing, but he doesn’t turn, so Ronan continues. “Did you come here this morning, or did you come here last night? You came last night, didn’t you? Fuck, Adam. What the fuck did you do?”

Adam doesn’t want to hear this, but he can’t seem to start walking again.

Ronan snarls, “I really don’t understand you” and Kavinsky chirps in with “nothing to understand” before Adam’s anger calms enough to have his body take him away from the roof, down the floor and into his car.

He decides to wait for Ronan one minute. When Ronan doesn’t show, he waits for five more, ten more, before throwing Ronan’s phone on the passenger seat, starting the rattling car and going back to his room.

*

Ronan turns and storms towards Kavinsky, who smiles at him innocently. “Your phone,” he says and Kavinsky passes it to him without a word. Good. He calls Gansey before he has time to talk himself out of it.

“I’m at Kavinsky’s,” Ronan says when Gansey answers. “Come get me now.” He hangs up without giving him the time to answer, and tosses the phone back to Kavinsky. “Gansey will be here in a few minutes,” he says unnecessarily and Kavinsky nods. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Kavinsky shakes his head. “Nothing. Forget about it,” he says. “Oh wait, you already did.”

Ronan rolls his eyes. “Fuck off Kavinsky,” he says and rubs his forehead tiredly. “Just fuck off.”

He leaves the roof and doesn’t hang around, waiting for Gansey across the road. Kavinsky watches him, sitting on the ledge of the roof, drinking. He doesn’t look at him.

*  
(An Interlude)

“We have to feed her,” Noah says and it’s really impossible to say no to Noah when he uses that face.

“Ronan should be here to deal with it himself,” Gansey says and Blue really doesn’t know how he does that, how he resists both Noah’s face and Chainsaw’s pathetic cries.

Noah rubs a finger down Chainsaw’s head and she pecks it, hard. “A good thing I don’t bleed,” Noah says but he still rubs his finger like it hurts, and doesn’t try to stroke her again.

“She only bit him because she’s hungry Gansey,” Blue says. “What does Ronan feed her anyway?” She wants to feel bad for Gansey, she really does. He is moving around the room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and just moves his hands vaguely every time someone asks him a question.

“This is the baby incident all over again,” Noah says with a smile. “We’re lucky he hasn’t suggested changing her diapers yet.”

“Maybe she needs a walk? Flight? Whatever?” Gansey asks and Noah laughs.

“She’s a bird, Gansey, not a dog,” Blue says. “We just need to get her a couple of worms.”

Gansey looks at her scandalized. “There are no worms in the house, Jane!” 

There is no way Chainsaw is eating until Ronan gets home.

*

Ronan can feel his body vibrating with anger as he waits for Gansey, but he focuses on compressing all his feelings into a small ball in his chest, eyes closed, standing still and tense.

When Gansey arrives, he knows the look on Ronan’s face well enough to not ask any questions, and the journey home to Monmouth passes by in silence, allowing Ronan to focus on his pulsating head. The hangover is really just an added bonus.

When they arrive, Gansey asks if he’s coming up but Ronan doesn’t answer, instead finding his way to his well-worn punching bag. Wrapping up his hands allows him to finalize the focus, and he channels all his exasperation, all his irritation, all his resentment, and all his sadness into his fists. The punching bag takes turns being Kavinsky, Adam, and himself, and it’s not until he is covered in sweat, muscles aching pleasurably, that he notices Noah in the corner, shoulders hunched, watching him.

“Blue and I fed Chainsaw while Gansey was gone,” he says, holding up his fingers, covered in red marks. “I don’t think she likes me much.”

Ronan sits down next to him, and Noah hands him a towel.

“You’re dead,” he replies, “it’s not like it matters.”

“It’s still painful,” Noah mumbles, hurt. They sit in silence, Ronan still breathing heavily, Noah probably not at all. It is a comfortable sort of silence, not like with Gansey in the Pig, where it was pregnant with unanswered questions.

“You should maybe go and see her,” Noah whispers after some time, “I think she is pretty offended.”

“I don’t want to,” Ronan stated, but Noah shuffled so that he sat facing him.

“It’s not like just because you don’t like yourself doesn’t mean she will.”

Ronan considered that for a moment. Honestly, he wasn’t sure it was true.

“Maybe later” he answers finally, “she’s not a fan of being disturbed after having been fed.”

Content, Noah shuffles back against the wall. “So, how about Adam?”

“What about Adam?” Ronan bites, but Noah is unconcerned.

“You should go see him. He doesn’t mind being disturbed.” Ronan doesn’t respond, only stares ahead before resting his head on his knees.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Noah says, and Ronan laughs bitterly.

“If it wasn’t mine, then whose was it?”

“Joseph Kavinsky,” Noah replies simply, and Ronan is silent for a moment before asking, “What’s the difference between Kavinsky and me?” Noah smiles before putting his head on Ronan’s shoulder. 

“You have us.”

“Ugh, Noah," Ronan said, trying not to smile. “Just for that you need to get thrown out of the window again.”

“No, no, no,” Noah said and laughed, moving away from Ronan, and Ronan felt that life was slowly getting back to normal.

*

Blue came to see him once, but he didn’t open the door. Gansey as well, half an hour later, but he didn’t open the door. 

Adam is lying on his bed, looking at the ceiling and trying to decide whether he wanted the third visit or not. He wants Ronan there, because Ronan is different than Blue, or even Gansey. Ronan is rude and honest and doesn’t step around him like he’s made of porcelain.

Or at least that’s what Adam had thought.

But Ronan had barely touched him yesterday, and when he did it was soft, careful. Like he didn’t trust himself around Adam.

After this morning, Adam didn’t think Ronan trusted him all that much either.

Maybe it was for the best. What would Adam do if Ronan wanted him anyway? Dress up in fancy clothes and act like Declan’s girlfriends tend to do? He shakes his head. It’s a good thing that Ronan was mad. He’d get over it slowly and with it he’d get over whatever little crush he had on Adam and they’d both continue on with their lives without trouble. It was worth it; to have Ronan mad now rather than to have him disappointed later.

“Adam, open up!” Ronan says and Adam jumps out of the bed, all of his previous thoughts melting away. 

Ronan is standing there when Adam opens the door, with his hands in his pockets looking defensive and wary. “I’m sorry,” Adam says, and moves aside for Ronan to get in.

“Fuck you,” Ronan says, but his voice isn’t cold and he bumps softly at Adam as he passes by him, and Adam smiles.

They sit down on his bed and Adam curses himself for not having more seating, but it’s not like the room could accommodate it anyway. 

“So, about last night,” Adam starts, but Ronan interrupts him.

“We don’t need to talk about it, man.”

Adam clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “But I think we do. You said… You thought Kavinsky had dreamed me. That I wasn’t real.” When Ronan doesn’t say anything, he continues. “Has he done that before? Have you had dream versions of me, like, not real?” He feels sick thinking about it, a mixture of violation of autonomy and the worry that Ronan will be angry with him asking, will leave, but he needs to know.

But Ronan doesn’t flare. He just looks at Adam. “Never. I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t thought about it, but it wouldn’t be right. It’s you I want, not some mirror image.”

Adam flinches at the word want but half smiles. “Thanks, I guess.” Ronan is still looking at him, and Adam is starting to feel self-conscious. 

Leaning his head in his hands, he whispers, “We might have kissed.” Ronan’s silence changes form. When Adam doesn’t elaborate, he demands icily, “who?” 

Adam’s words are muffled by his palms. “I don’t know. You and me. Me and Kavinsky. You and Kavinsky at some point, probably, I can’t remember.” He straightens up as Ronan mumbles “fuck, man” and drags a hand over his face.

“I didn’t want it to happen like that, okay? That was never my plan,” Ronan continues, and Adam wants to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he was drunk, that he didn’t even believe Adam was real, but he doesn’t know how to, so he keeps his lips closed.

They sit on the bed in silence, and it’s different than Gansey’s silences, different than Noah’s silences, different than anything else. There are things to be said, but nobody is saying them. Ronan looks at Adam and he thinks he remembers last night, or at least parts of it, remembers Adam in Cabeswater and Adam on the roof, Adam everywhere and how was he supposed to believe he was real when he was everywhere in Ronan’s world, all the time.

“I want to say that nothing has to change, but that’s not true, is it?” Adam says and Ronan nods. He’s so tired.

“Do you want me to pull back?” Ronan asks, dreading the answer.

“I don’t know,” he says, and an I don’t know is still not a no but it isn’t what Ronan wants either, not by a long shot. “I think I want you to kiss me when we’re both sober.” 

Ronan feels out of breath and it’s stupid, stupid because he’s already kissed Adam, he’s seen Adam naked, he’s seen Adam with his head thrown back getting his cock sucked, and it’s stupid, stupid to get breathless just because Adam wants to kiss him, now.

Ronan is fucked, but he’s not one for wasting chances either. He leans forward and sucks Adam’s bottom lip between his, tangling his fingers in his hair and holding him close. Adam kisses him back instantly and he’s pushing them closer and wrapping his hands behind Ronan’s shoulders and Ronan never allowed himself to think of Adam as strong, only as someone vulnerable and easy to break but the arms around him are holding him in place and Adam’s mouth on his is insistent and hot and open so he pulls at Adam’s lip with his teeth, and doesn’t hold back.

He feels Adam smiling against his lips before he straddles Ronan’s lap, knees pressing against the side of his thighs, and Ronan has never felt this complete. Adam is driving them closer together, lips, face, body, his arms tight around Ronan’s neck, his tongue warm and inviting. Ronan pushes him off, and for a split second he can see hurt on Adam’s face, before Ronan drags him onto the bed and crawls on top of him, pinning him down. When Adam starts grinding up hard, Ronan realizes that they might both need a break before they do something they will regret.

“Maybe we should take it slow,” he pants and Adam laughs, but he pushes the other boy off himself and into the tight spot between the wall and Adam’s body. He’s half on top of him anyway so Ronan definitely isn’t complaining.

He turns over and looks at Adam, concerned. He doesn’t want him doing something that he doesn’t want to do, and he has to make sure. 

“Are you okay? I mean, is this…”

“It feels good,” Adam replies quickly. “It feels right. I don’t know, I’m definitely not okay, but in a positive way, I think.” He looks at Ronan and Ronan looks back, before realizing that Adam is asking if he is okay, too.

“Shit, man, I’ve never been better.” Smiling, Ronan touches Adam’s cheek gently, and Adam scoots over to kiss him, before getting up and straddling Ronan again, holding his hands pinned to his side as he leans down to nibble at Ronan’s lips.

When Adam moves down to his neck, Ronan laughs breathlessly, moaning slightly as Adam starts making bruises. Oh God, he is so far gone. “What are you doing?” 

Adam lifts himself up, pecking Ronan’s nose.

“The next time Kavinsky sees you, I want him to know that you belong to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was mine (genderqueerrosalind.tumblr.com) and Kat's (ronanlunch.tumblr.com) first try at banishing our writer's block through some good old fashioned raven cycle fanfiction. As for the Pynchisky, well, go big or go home right? The lovely anabelsbrother.tumblr.com was our patient kind and loving beta but she is way too fond of us and doesn't really call us out on our plot holes so any remaining mistakes were entirely our own.


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